


Frustration

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eating Disorder, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock, ballet!lock, basically everyone is mean to sherlock, homaphobia, rugby!john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a danseur, John is the captain of the rugby team. They may seem like complete opposites, but you know what they say, opposites attract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I am obsessed with ballet!lock and decided to give writing one a try? Any feedback would mean the world, good or bad! I've done a lot of research on both ballet and rugby but I'm no expert so please tell me if I make an horrible mistakes! Thank you:))

When Sherlock Holmes got frustrated he would try anything humanly possible to get his curls out of his eyes without going at them with a scissors. When Sherlock got frustrated he stomped around the studio flinging his spare en pointe shoes across the room. When Sherlock got frustrated he stared up at the ceiling and tried to think of a reason why he put himself through this. When Sherlock got frustrated he would think of a certain John Watson and suddenly he wouldn't be frustrated any more.

The sweat that had claimed the top of Sherlock’s skin had finally started to cool as Sherlock took a break while putting on his en pointe shoes. This was the hardest part, trying to get all of his body weight on the tip of his feet. This had been one of the reasons he had stopped eating, stopped making him sound like an elephant every time he walked across the studio. He tried to shake the mental image from his head and focus on what was truly important, dance.

The whole reason behind the pointe technique was the desire to look weightless and graceful, something Sherlock had a problem thinking he would ever achieve. Sighing, he got off the floor and started to stretch out his feet, he could do this. Ballet was all physics and mathematics. That he could do, he was good with numbers. He slowly started to raise his body to just his toes, he could feel the strain beginning already but he kept going and stayed still for a matter of seconds before he fell to the ground with a loud crash. 

“Idiot!” Sherlock scolded himself as he turned on his side and curled into a ball on the floor, if he felt like a failure he may as well look the part.

 

 

When John Watson got frustrated he would take it out on whatever poor soul was nearest to him. When John got frustrated he would grab his short hair and nearly all but pull it out by the root. When John got frustrated he would shout at his team. When John got frustrated he listened to the cheer of the crowd and suddenly he wasn't frustrated any more.

“Captain!” John turned to see Anderson; the team’s bully coming up to him. “Wanna see something fun?” He winked and walked past John and off the pitch; John quickly followed wondering what Anderson had in store for him tonight.

“Oi Queerlock!” Anderson shouted towards a silhouette in the distance but even though it was dark John swore he saw the figure shudder before slowly turning around just in time for Anderson to walk right up to him.

“Where’s the tights? You know how much I do love it when you wear them to our little meetings.”

“J-just leave me alone, please. Not today.” Now that John was closer he saw the boy properly. He had mad black curly hair that stuck out in all different directions and sharp cheekbones that John figured could cut glass. 

“Aw what’s gotten into you Sherly?” Anderson gave the boy a stomach-turning smirk before his hand forming a fist and colliding right with his nose and the boy went flying to the ground dropping a bag John hadn't even realised he was carrying. Anderson picked up the bag as soon as it was out of the boy’s reach, suggesting that this was something that happened regularly, and went through it. He started to rip whatever clothing was in the bag until he came to a pair of very pink, very silky shoes.  
“Well, well. Aren't these pretty?” Anderson looked down at the boy that could only be described as how a predator looks at his prey and began to rip the ribbon at the top of the shoes.

“Please, please just stop.” He had his hand cradling half of his face and John swore the boy in front of him was about to cry. John quickly grabbed Anderson by the arm and pulled him back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” John whispered. “The guy is harmless! Just leave him alone.” John looked down and was met with big, glassy blue eyes staring back at him.

“He’s a fucking queer ballerina! Aren't you Sherlock?” Sherlock, that was his name. John didn't know how he didn't realise earlier, he was the rugby team’s punching bag but John had never actually had been involved in an altercation with him until tonight. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw Sherlock nod and stare at the ground beneath him.

“Come on John, let’s go. I don’t want to get infected with whatever diseases he may have.” Anderson pulled at John’s jumper and John stupidly muttered an apology before leaving with Anderson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. We're back again.. I know some people might think Sherlock is a bit out of character but in my head as a teen he was very insecure, vulnerable and scared and that's the reason he's so cold and distant as an adult because of all the bullying and stuff as a young child/teen. So I hope you get were I am coming from and I hope you like it:))

Sherlock clenched his jaw at the thought of just how fucking weak he was. He knew he was no damsel in distress but he didn't think John, the beautiful and concerned John, would share the same feelings as him. John with his natural caring nature and protective instincts was bound to now only see Sherlock as a weak sixteen year old boy who needs help. Sherlock didn't need anyone’s help, especially not John’s. He didn't want to be John’s charity case.

John. Sherlock sighed and let himself think of the short, but slightly shaggy, dirty blonde hair. He let his mind replay the image of John drenched and covered in mud and his shirt clinging to his tight, muscled frame, part from the rain and part from sweat. He started to feel a familiar heavy feeling around his crotch and groaned. Now was not the time. Sherlock quickly gathered up his thoughts before leaving his dorm room and making his way towards the ever familiar studio.

When he was finally safe within the four walls that made him feel the most at home, the most secure, he let himself relax. He breathed deeply and sat down to put on his new shoes, this was one of the times Sherlock supposed he was alright with Mycroft spying in on his life, it would have just been a waste of time for Sherlock to have to go and buy himself a new pair before his daily practise. He tightened the ribbon around his ankles until he could feel the familiar bite of the silky fabric against his skin.

He slowly got up and began to roll his head from one shoulder to the other, trying to loosen up, trying to get his body to relax. He started swiftly moving from first position, to second trying to get the flow of moving his feet from tightly together to shoulder width apart. After he was satisfied he moved to the bar and started to work on his plié. Bar work he found easy, more of a warm up then anything, but if he was really honest with himself he always did it just because he could and it was something he could achieve with the least of effort put in. Something to make him proud of himself, happy with himself.

Finally he had built up the nerve to move on to try the en pointe exercises. Think weightless, graceful he told himself before the back of his feet started to move slowly off the ground. He was happy like this, achieving something after trying so hard, that’s why it is worth it. To finally say that he, Sherlock Holmes, can successfully put all his weight and balance onto the tip of his toes. Unfortunately he hadn't reached that yet and he found himself, again, tumbling back onto the floor with a loud shout.

Sherlock was pulling at his curls with such fierceness he thought he might rip a few of them out. 

Breathe.

In, out. In and back out again. 

John.

Blonde hair tickling against the side of his face as plump, rough lips attack his.

Short stubby fingers touching his skin with the lightest of touches.

Warm, blue eyes staring into his own, telling him everything that he couldn't say.

Sherlock sighed at the thoughts and moved back to the bar.

 

John Watson was the rugby captain, he was the school’s golden boy, he was every girl’s fantasy but John Watson was also short tempered, he had slight alcoholic tendencies and John Watson was most certainly interested in boys. 

“Watson! Get your head in the bloody game!!” Lestrade, his coach shouted from across the pitch. John shook his head to try bring his thoughts back to rugby. The good thing about being a back was that there was little for him to do but wait at the back of the pitch and keep his eyes on the ball. They weren't even playing a proper game, it was just a training exercise but John could feel himself getting worked up as they started the scrum.

They started making the backline formation next and John began to run through what he play he would have to do next in his head. Was it the correct time to catch the ball and sidestep through the defence, become a decoy runner or carry the ball and be tackled down. He prayed it wasn't the latter; he really wasn't in the mood to be crushed to the ground. His mind was swarming with plays and positions he didn't even see Stamford run for him.

 

John looked up to find himself in a huge room with mirrors along two of the walls and a long bar attached. He walked across the wooden floor and his steps echoed around the room.

“Eh Hello? Is anyone-” His voice was zoned out by the sound of light, classic music filling the room. 

All John saw were glimpses of curly jet black hair, sharp cheekbones and ever enticing pink, cupid bow lips. Long legs were graceful leaping and gliding around the room, it was almost as if the dancer was flying through the air. John could do nothing but stare at the body in pure awe. 

The body twirled effortlessly and ended the dance with slowly rising onto their tippy toes and John thought he had never seen something so beautiful before in his whole life. The head of hair slowly turned around to face John, the piercing grey eyes were filled with passion and the pale complexion was slightly tinted a rosy red glow around the dancers cheeks. His lips slowly turned upwards treating John to a sight of pearly white teeth.

Suddenly John got a strong whiff of sweat and next thing he knew Lestrade and half of the team in front of his face using one of his teammate’s old sock as a substitute for smelling salts. All John could think of was strong, sharp cheekbones and mad curly hair and light pink ribbon wrapped around lean, never-ending legs.

“Oh shit.” John whispered. This was not good.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was locking up after being the last one left in the studio when something, or more like someone, flushed up against him. 

"I think you're beautiful." John Watson whispered right behind Sherlock's ear and smiled when he saw Sherlock shudder. John felt, more than saw, Sherlock's little head shake when a few curls tickled lightly against his nose. 

Sherlock slowly turned around, his eyes glued to the ground, shifting from foot to foot. John lifted his hand and with two fingers slowly tilted Sherlock's head up by his chin and smiled when grey eyes met blue. 

"W-why? I mean h-how?" Sherlock whisper was barely audible but John felt Sherlock's face lean into his touch and John took this as his moment. He looked down and took in the sight that was Sherlock's lips, the pink tint of them, the red marks from where his teeth went too far and a cupid bow that John could do nothing but fantasise about taking in between his teeth. John's tongue darted out to moisten his suddenly dry lips. 

"J-John." Sherlock all but whimpered as John started to lean in. At first it was shy, barely a touch between closed lips but l suddenly it was so much more when John's tongue licked along the seam of Sherlock's mouth and all but pried that beautiful mouth open. 

Sherlock grabbed John's waist and received a gorgeous moan from John as their hips aligned. John's mouth clearly had another destination in mind as his head started to move downwards, towards his collar bones. 

"Ugh j-John please." Sherlock had no idea what he was begging for but he wanted something. He kept his fingers wrapped in John's soft, blond hair as the head kept on going south. 

Sherlock buckled his hips when he felt hot breath tickle against the fabric of his tights. John slowly licked a long line starting from the base of Sherlock's cock up to the tip and quickly yanked his tights down so John could enjoy Sherlock in all his glory. 

John took him in so deeply Sherlock knew he wasn't going to last. He thrusted, quite pathetically, into John's mouth begging for release. He was so close, he knew he was gonna-

"John!" Sherlock shouted out and found himself wrapped in his, slightly sticky, sheets. Alone. Sherlock sighed before looking down and realising that yes, he is going to have to wash his sheets. Again. He cursed his body for giving in to such urges, even if said urges were caused by John.

* * *

John spent the next two days trying to find out more about this Sherlock bloke without the need to go to the man himself. He had to say that most people were no help in the slightest and from some people John didn't know what to believe. 

When John asked Sally Donovan about him, he received a scoff and something about letting people down and that Sherlock was a freak. John figured there was a big history there that he didn't want to know about.

John's next victim was Irene Adler, she was a ballerina who apparently worked quite closely with Sherlock, if John was to believe the rumours. When John saw her pale skin, her blood red lips and her sharp cheekbones all he could think about was just how well they would look together. John pushed the slight queasy feeling in his stomach out of his mind as he made his way over to Irene. 

"I'm assuming you're here about Sherlock?" Irene didn't even bother looking up as John walked over to her. 

"Eh y-yeah. How did you..?" John's eyebrows squeezed together and he wondered just how many people knew what he was doing. If John was honest with himself though, he had no idea what he was doing, or why he was doing it, so he figured no one could really know. 

Irene just simply rolled her eyes and stood up. With her heels on, she was the exact same height as John. "Don't worry sweetie, no one knows what you're up to. But just so you know, you are just his type." Irene simply patted his cheek softly and winked before she strutted off, John really didn't know what to make of that one. 

John considered asking Anderson, just to see what his big problem with Sherlock was. The only thing was if Anderson started to get suspicious of what John was up to he'd never hear the end of it. 

Finally John gave up and started to write a list of all the information he gathered about Sherlock Holmes and see what conclusion John could come to about this mystery guy. 

Sherlock Homes;

Sixteen years of age  
Ballet dancer  
Incredibly smart  
Obnoxious   
Selfish  
Lets people down  
Inhumane  
Careless  
Knows things about you  
Scary  
Freak  
Gay  
Vulnerable   
Beautiful. 

The last two were John's addition but he thought they fit, for now anyway.

* * *

"I'm assuming you heard the news then?" Irene glided into the studio with such a grace that Sherlock could do nothing but envy. 

"No, you know I haven't Irene. Please spare us both the time and the boredom of making me try deduce it out of you." Sherlock rolled up his shoes using the ribbon to make it secure before stuffing them in his duffle bag. 

"A certain rugby captain has been asking around about you." She purred and Sherlock whipped his head towards her so fast, shooting pains up his neck added to the aches he'd gained that today. "John?" Sherlock winced at how his voice, though barely audible cracked by the 'o' in John. 

"Oh don't tell me, you really didn't know? Oh goodie!" Irene clapped her hands while grinning brightly at Sherlock. He couldn't believe what she just said. John? John Watson, captain of the rugby team, every girl in the school's dream guy was asking about Sherlock? The Sherlock who everyone made fun of? The Sherlock who no one accepted? The Sherlock that no one loved? That Sherlock?

Sherlock couldn't help the way his lips slightly turned upwards while he walked out of the studio and away from Irene. Maybe things would finally get better for him, maybe Sherlock would actually be wanted for once in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone for reading so far! And I hope you're all enjoying it:))

Two weeks. Two whole fucking weeks since the Irene incident and Sherlock was still alone. He was still "Queerlock", he was still the loner, he was still unwanted. For the past thirteen days and 23 and a half hours Sherlock had been trying, and trying doesn't always mean succeeding, not to think of that certain rugby captain. Said rugby captain had a tendency to creep up into Sherlock's head with out Sherlock even realising. Sherlock started to wonder when did he stop having control of the JW situation. 

 

Sherlock decided to skip his early morning study period for an extra bit of ballet practise before all the homework started to pile up. Well he figured it was what most of the students would describe as hard but it just took up more of Sherlock's usual five minute dedication time to school work so he needed all the extra practise he could get before Mycroft would force him to do his work. 

Sherlock could feel his body becoming more unresponsive and each limb felt like a weight was added onto the end of it as he walked along the school corridor. Each blink took a second longer than usual and when he finally opened his eyes, his vision was filled with nothing but black and little white dots. Oh no. 

Sherlock had no idea where he even was in the school but he knew he couldn't be near people if his body was to fail him. Not again. 

 

It was his head that gave first, falling towards the back of his neck. His legs quickly followed as his knees have out beneath him. "Damn it." He scolded himself as gravity pulled his body down. He knew he should have eaten that almond but he just couldn't get himself to do it. He couldn't walk around stomping like a rhino if John could possibly be interested in him. The last thought Sherlock had before everything went peacefully black and quiet was "could John really ever be interested in someone so messed up like you?".

* * *

"Oh my god!!" Anderson all but shouted and clapped the back of John's back with glee. "This is perfect!! Come on, what should we do to him now? Oh! I know how to make him piss himself while he's asleep! Come on it would be perfect, he'd assume it was from the faint." Anderson kept on blabbering on as John got tenser and tenser under his fingers. 

"Get. Out." John hissed to the bodies behind him. "Ah Watson, what are you going to do to him? We don't want to miss out on the fun!!" John ripped himself out of Anderson's grasped and stared at him long and hard. 

"I said. Get out. Now!" John kept himself from shouting, for Sherlock's sake. The poor boy's body clearly needed a break. He knew Sherlock would never in a million years decide to faint in the boys locker rooms. John didn't even notice the guys leaving until the bang of the door brought him back to the present. 

Quickly John went over to what looked like a lifeless mess of skin and bones and went over the procedure when someone faints. He checked his breathing rate, his pulse and tilted his head up so he couldn't swallow his tongue. Once he was satisfied he slowly moved Sherlock around into the recovery position.

John stared at the body and let his eyes wander around the body of the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. He took in the sight of lean, thin legs beneath the school unflattering grey suit trousers. His brain drunk in the sight of such a muscle filled chest that the buttons were straining, nearly popping, against the material of the white school shirt. John finally looked up at the all pale, all cheekbone sight that was Sherlock's face.

Sherlock's lips were parted slightly and his breaths were coming out in short, shallow sounds. The only thing supporting Sherlock's head was his thick curls and suddenly, without even thinking, John pulled off his school issued rugby jacket and neatly placed it under Sherlock's head. 

John almost considered putting his hand out to stroke a beautiful cheekbone but before he could make up his mind Sherlock made a little humming noise of appreciation, clearly happy with the new soft fabric under his head. John just smiled and made his way back to the bench where he could still keep a watchful eye on him.

* * *

Sherlock's eyes slowly started to flutter to life and he instantly groaned when the bright light hit his eyes. A light snigger brought Sherlock back around to where he was and what just happened. His head snapped to where the noise came from and he quietly gasped at the sight in front of him. 

John Watson was sitting about two feet away with both legs crossed on the bench. "A bit brighter than you were expecting?" John smirked and Sherlock's heart fluttered while his pulse quickened. 

"I-". Sherlock's voice got caught on his throat. He attempted to nod as he thickly swallowed. Sherlock was so shocked at to what was happening in front of his eyes he didn't even realise all the data about John entering his brain until he was half way through blurting it out. 

"You had a fight with your parents this morning, someone threw something. Probably your mother, most likely your sister's bowl of cereal. You were late to school but not because of that, no. You went to the rugby pitch. Trying to work our your frustration another way? Oh I know that feeling. You met two, no three other players while you were out there and one of them was definitely Anderson." Sherlock finished his deductions and quickly raised himself up with the shock of what he'd just done. John was going to know he was a freak for sure now. 

Suddenly John was right up beside him now. He slowly raised his arm and placed his hand gently on top of Sherlock's shoulder, pressing him back down to the ground. "You're going to pass out again if you get up that fast." He smiled warmly at Sherlock and Sherlock's stomach filled with butterflies. "Oh-I. Sorry." Sherlock mumbled and felt the heat rise to his cheeks. 

"Back there. I mean what you said. How did you know that?" Sherlock watched John and how at ease he was with being this close to him. Sherlock took a shaky breath and mentally said his goodbyes to John, he was only going to see him as a freak after this. 

"I observe." He answered plainly and shifted his head wondering just what was under it. He rolled his eyes as he practically heard what John was attempting to think. "I observe things, just like regular people do, but I'm quicker and much more intelligent than the average two humans put together, so I am able to piece information together that I gather from observing. I knew you were with Anderson but the state of your jumper and I knew someone in your house threw a bowl full of cereal at you by the milk on your trousers and the shards under your shoe." John gaped at Sherlock once he was finished and Sherlock could do nothing but wish for this to be over. 

"Oh my, that was. That was fucking brilliant mate! Amazing!" John beamed at him and Sherlock could feel the sides of his mouth turning up slowly with the praise he received. 

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off." Sherlock shrugged but felt something inside him twinge when his ears were greeted by the sound of none other than John Watson's high pitched giggle. He had made him giggle, Sherlock made a mental note to make sure he is the cause of that sound more often. 

"I'm John. John Watson, by the way." John stuck out his hand and Sherlock's whole body shivered when his hand touched John's. 

"The name's Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock couldn't believe his luck. John was talking to him and was actually impressed by his deductions. No one liked him, especially after he deduced them. He started to wonder what made John so different. 

"Look mate, you seem alright now but I really can't be any later for my next class or I'll get killed! So take it easy ok? Do you need me to help you up or can you do it yourself?" John's eyes were filled with concern and Sherlock just shook his head. 

"I'll be fine John. Thank you, now go." He watched John get up and make his way to the door. "I'll see you around, yeah?" John smiled and Sherlock just nodded. He had no idea just how much Sherlock liked that thought. Sherlock saw him quickly glance at the fabric under Sherlock's head and watched his lips turn up into a smirk before opening the door and walking back out into the world. 

When he was finally alone Sherlock slowly sat up to see just was his head was on. He couldn't help the grin that creeped onto his face. The "s", "o" and "n" were just about visible from the way it was folded and Sherlock couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride that John had willingly given up his rugby jacket for Sherlock. He brought the jacket up to his nose and took one quick inhale, filling his nose up with a gorgeous scent that could only be John before carefully placing it into his bag.


	5. Chapter 5

The first day John saw Sherlock again after what John had named Fainting Friday, he was speechless. He had changed to a cheaper gym and as expected he had gotten lost in the building that was basically made up of concrete and wood.

John was convinced he was just travelling in circles but then a sign would pop up that he'd never seen before and he knew he was done for. When he finally accepted that he was in fact lost, he started wandering around looking in each room. When he came to two huge wooden doors with a sliver of glass on each side where the door met the wall. This was the first room he came to where the doors were actually shut. When he pressed his ear against it he could hear a very faint and slightly familiar hum of music coming from within. 

John got up the courage to see just what was going on inside and peeked his head over to the glass. John felt like the hallway had definitely gotten smaller within those five seconds of looking in. 

John's eyes winded as his mind took in the view that was in front of him. Slick curls stuck to a damp forehead. Tights hug long, lean legs and a ribbon is tied on the end of each one. An oversized cropped jumper just about covered the muscular, pale abdomen. 

John's breath shortened as he saw Sherlock's head slowly move in time with the music. John watched through the glass as Sherlock place an ankle on top of the bar and slowly stretched his hands down to reach his toes and his stomach rested against his thigh. As John's eyes rested on his thighs, his sight took in the raised material around where Sherlock's thighs met in the middle. 

If John thought the corridor was stuffy before he was clearly mistake as he found it hard to find any air at all. He tried to shake himself out of whatever was happening but it was no use. He watched as Sherlock took his leg off the bar and went towards his duffle. John's palms started to sweat and he knew he should leave but something deep inside of him wouldn't allow that to happen. 

John's eyes never left Sherlock as he reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a towel, after he had wiped off most of the dampness off his skin he reached into his duffle again and pulled out something John recognised instantly. The wine and cream school colours jumped out at him and John couldn't help but smirk when he saw Sherlock place his arms carefully in it and wrap it around himself. Sherlock was a good three inches taller than John but John was much more of a stockier build so the jacket fitted him fine. It was slightly too big around the shoulders and chest but John thought it look perfect. 

Sherlock's body started to turn towards the door and John knew now was the time to leave. So with the thought of Sherlock wrapped in his jacket he left with a grin on his face and a slight bounce in his step.

* * *

The next time John saw Sherlock was in the studio again, but this time is was a Saturday. It was quite early, much earlier than John intended to go but he definitely needed to get out of his house this morning. Not if he wanted a repeat of last month, so this is how John found himself outside of what he had named Sherlock's Studio and took a deep breath before knocking quietly. 

"Get out. Can't you see I'm busy?" A sharp voice cut through the delicate music floating throughout the room. "Oh sorry- I just I." John fumbled to turn around and leave when long, thin fingers wrapped around his bicep and tightened. 

"No. Turn." The voice was so demanding John couldn't help but turn towards it. He was greeted by cold eyes that looked as if they were cutting into John's core. "Another fight? John you really should get that temper of yours under control." With a slight shake of the head Sherlock moved across to the bars and proceeded to stretch again like he did the last time John watched him. 

"What do you want?" Sherlock's eyes met John's through the mirror. John shifted his feet and looked down, what did he want? Why was he here? How come he didn't just keep on walking? "Oh your rugby jacket I assume, of course. I have kept it on me for when I was to bump into you again." Sherlock's velvet voice cut into John's thoughts and John couldn't even shake his head in protest before Sherlock glided over to his duffle and took out John's jacket. "Well here you are, you may leave now. You got what you came for." Sherlock thrusted the jacket into John's hands and turned away once John's hands accepted the fabric. 

"I didn't-". John begun weakly and cleared his throat. "I didn't come here for this." John nodded his head towards the crumpled material in his hand. "Hmm, no. No you didn't did you? So tell me John." Sherlock with the slyness of a cat crept up in front of John and stopped just as his lips met John's ear. John couldn't fight the shiver that ran through his back. "Why are you here exactly?" Sherlock moved back, sank to his knees with his face dangerously close to John's crotch and simply shifted back on his bum and sat down beneath John. 

"I wanted to see you. I don't know Sherlock. I wanted to try and talk to you and see what type of person you are? Why do I have to have a reason or an alternative motive?" John clenched his fists and kept his arm rigidly attached to his sides. "Because John." Sherlock all but spat as his name passed his lips. "Everyone, always has an alternative motive." Sherlock's voice turned soft half way through and John thought he meant to say it much more viciously then he did.

"Well, I don't." John shrugged and sat down opposite Sherlock. With both of their legs stretched out in front of them, they were nearly touching from thigh to shin. John couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock's skin would be as hot as his red flush made it look. 

When John looked up he was met with a pair of grey eyes staring right at his shoulder. John knew he wouldn't miss the way he had shifted it when he sat down, with him being so "observant". 

"Ask what you want to ask." John sighed and slowly moved back until the whole back of his body was touching the hard, cold wooden floor. "I can't figure out when. I know how and I know why but I can't figure out if it was before or after the rugby." He could practically feel Sherlock's curious gaze on him, trying to find the answers in what way John had tied his laces today or how rumpled his t-shirt was. 

"I was thirteen. I assume that's all you need, considering you said you knew everything else." John placed his hands behind his head and tried to ignore the slight twinge from his shoulder. Sherlock quietly hummed beside John. "Well, it would be nice to know that my theory is the correct one." 

"Well why don't you tell me and I'll let you know if it's right or not."

"You were thirteen." Sherlock began and John just hummed in agreement while Sherlock started to speak in rapid speed. 

"You were at your aunt's house yes? It was the summer and you were brought there to try and shelter you from what was happening between your parents. Divorce, simple, boring." John smirked as he could practically hear Sherlock's eye roll. 

"It was all going well until you were caught getting particularly friendly, let us say, with the next door neighbour. I would assume she was about three years your senior and that's what all the fuss was about. You were told to go home immediately, it was summer but it was still cold. So cold in fact you turned back to the house to get a coat but on your way back to the house you tripped, over something as stupid as a branch or I fear, your own shoe laces. You stumbled onto the road and the poor driver couldn't do anything until it was too late. You landed on your shoulder and that was that." John felt Sherlock fidgeting and practically bursting with energy once he had done.

"Tell me, how accurate was I?" His voice was much calmer than John assumed he was. 

"Very good, the coat and my aunt's house were spot on. I'm afraid I did trip over my shoe lace and I was spot with the next door neighbour. Very well done indeed." John smiled, he truly was amazed at what Sherlock was able to tell just from the way John was. It was brilliant. 

"I missed something didn't I? I did. What was it?" All too quickly Sherlock's face was centimetres away from John's, his eyes begging for an answer. John swiftly got his back off the floor and sat up. 

"I was caught with the next door neighbour, yes. They were three years older than me, yes. But it wasn't a she." John watched as Sherlock's brain clicked into gear and pieced all of the information together. 

"A male, of course! How did I miss that? And obviously that's why all the altercations occur at home isn't it? The Watson's aren't very happy with producing a 'queer' son." John questioned if Sherlock even noticed what he said most of the time and the impact they could have. 

"You really just like the sound of your own voice don't you?" John smirked and went to get up. "Wait- where are you going?" Sherlock's big eyes looked up at John. "I don't know about you but I'm bloody starving. Up for some-". John looked at his watched and groaned. "Lunch, I guess. Christ the time passed fast. Come on, let's go. It looks like you have hardly eaten all week let alone today!" John smiled as Sherlock looked at him with a mixture of somewhat nervousness and confusion but all too fast his blank mask was put back into place and he just nodded, short and quick before grabbing his duffle and following John out of the studio and into the real world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this chapter, the last chapter and I'm assuming the next chapter are more filler chapters so I can get the foundation down before the real plot begins I guess! I hope you're enjoying it. Thank you all for reading!  
>  Lots of love and hugs, Aisling.


	6. Chapter 6

After that first Saturday after John showed up, Sherlock had just sort of added it into his routine. He assumed he would show every Saturday, well if Sherlock could take the hints John was dropping during lunch, which of course he did, it seemed that John had planned to show up every Saturday as well. 

It was 9:43 before John showed up, his face a shade darker then usual and he was panting, quite hard Sherlock noticed. "John, what on earth is the matter with you?" Sherlock questioned but John only doubled over and breathed heavily in response. "Right well, if you're going to be this loud and distract me from my practise you can breathe in the hall, thank you." Sherlock nodded and got ready to practise his positions. 

He was his fifth round of moving from first position, to second and to third when John finally made a noise. "Are you even going to ask?" John was slumped against the door, his head tilted up as his breaths slowly came back to normal. 

"What makes you think I need to?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and sat down to put on his en pointe shoes. "Well come on then, tell me." John grinned and Sherlock couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement run through him at the fact that John didn't just encourage his deductions, he actually enjoyed them. Brilliant he'd call him. Amazing he'd say, Sherlock didn't think he even noticed the praise leaving his lips but each one made Sherlock blush and grin with pride. He figured John didn't notice the blush as the heat from exhaustion could have been the explanation but every time John caught his little grin he would match it. It would be bigger and warmer but it was just for him. Sherlock had a whole room in his mind palace dedicated to John's smile.

"Nothing, there's nothing to tell. You just ran for the adrenaline. I'm assuming you ran all the way from home without stopping if what the rate of your breaths told me were correct. Which I can assure you they were." Sherlock quietly waited, he wanted the praise. More than he could care to admit. 

"Brilliant. I thought maybe I'd catch you out on that one but clearly no one can fool the amazing Sherlock Holmes." John laughed before looking around at the studio. His eyes rested on Sherlock, who was securing the ribbon around his ankle. 

"So what other days do you come here? It's just that rugby games start up soon and they're always on a Saturday morning so I wouldn't be able to come here anymore. Unless of course, you'd prefer I didn't because that's totally fine too, I mean I could-". Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's ridiculous monologue. 

"God John, please stop and gather up your thoughts before you go on blabbering. It really is quite unintelligent of you." Sherlock got up and started to stretch out his feet. He really didn't want to try his en pointe exercises, not while John was there to watch him fail but he had to get through the exercises and he couldn't ask John to leave. What if he never came back?

"You never answered my question." John stated, Sherlock hated when he stated the obvious. 

"I'm here everyday. Monday through Friday I am here every evening from seven until half nine and the rest of the week I am here at the same time as I always am during our weekly meetings." 

"Oh great. Ok so I'll come probably on one of the evenings then. As long as you're ok with that." Sherlock sighed, he really must train John out of this completely unnecessary habit of blabbering. 

"Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have told you." Out of the corner he could see John shaking his head slightly with his lips slightly turned up. 

"Christ you never get a break do you? You're here all week. What do you even do to relax?" Sherlock took in the sight of John mothering him, eyes wide with concern. 

"John, if I want to do this professionally then I can't afford to miss one day that could be used to better myself."

"But what do you do for fun? There has to be something you like to do other than ballet."

"I like crimes. I like the puzzle, the mystery. Unfortunately there hasn't been any good murder recently for me to sink my teeth into so I've had to make due with my experiments to keep me entertained." Sherlock didn't even hesitate before answering, he thought maybe he should work on his filter when he was around John. 

John's laughter cut through Sherlock's thoughts mid panic. "You're mental mate." John slapped the back of his shoulder, Sherlock wondered just when did John get off the floor, let alone get so close to him. "I better be off but I'll see you sometime during the week. Maybe you won't be able to guess it and I'll surprise you!" 

"I never guess, and it will be Wednesday evening." Sherlock called and he heard John's laugh as he made his way out of the doors and back to the gym.

* * *

Wednesday evening arrived and he couldn't help but grin as he heard footsteps stopping right outside his studio. Sherlock didn't turn around when the door opened, that was his first big mistake. 

"My, my. Things really have turned out better for you Sherly." A slight English, slight Irish tone voice filled his ears and Sherlock's eyes widened. He quickly gathered himself before he turned to face the body of the voice. 

"Ah Jim, what do I owe the pleasure?" Sherlock took in the sight of Jim. He had changed a lot in the six months he hadn't seen him. His usual chocolate brown eyes seemed more black then brown. His hair was slicked back off of his face, unlike the fluffy mess it used to be. His smile was menacing, Sherlock did his best not to shiver at the sight of it. 

"I just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgot about me." The smile spread on Jim's face and he stepped towards Sherlock. It took all his strength for him to stay in place. "Especially now that your spending all your time with that rugby captain. What was his name? John?" 

"You leave him out of this." Sherlock stormed up to Jim and stared down at him, fortunately Sherlock was an inch taller than him. It didn't mean Jim was any less intimating but Sherlock liked to use it to his advantage.

"Oh is your little pet becoming something special to you?" Jim smirked and slowly moved out of Sherlock's space. "Don't you talk about John that way." Sherlock all but spat. 

"Hmm, I wonder how long it will be until he leaves you. None of it's real. It's all for a bet you know? I mean really, why else would he stick around? I wonder how far little Johnny would go to try win. To make you believe it. He may even go in for a kiss, really try sell it. Oh the beauty of idiotic teens." Jim raised his hands in some sort of praise and walked away from Sherlock. Bet? What? Sherlock's thoughts were swimming, he couldn't believe it. No John cared. Didn't he?

"John cares about me, he doesn't have an alternative motive." Sherlock watched as Jim stopped in his tracks and turned towards him. 

"Oh my, does he not? Well if you're sure then keep on telling yourself that, maybe, if you're really lucky. John might just throw in a kiss for fun. But he'll leave you, just like everyone else does. Really Sherly, what would make you so special that John would actually feel something for you."

Sherlock couldn't breath. He tried to inhale but he couldn't get any air in. "What would you know? You don't know John." 

"Hmm, no I guess I don't but I do know a certain Anderson. Right idiot but he really can't keep a secret. It only took half a beer for him to blurb out his and John's secret plan." Sherlock's breath was coming and going unevenly and he wasn't even certain if his brain was receiving any oxygen. 

"Oh you're so beautiful like that, all breathless." Jim stalked over to Sherlock and placed his hand against his cheek. Sherlock flinched but didn't turn away. "Don't forget who you belong to." He sing-songed and walked off leaving Sherlock in the middle of the studio, breathless and scared.

* * *

"Oh you're so beautiful like that, all breathless." John was close to the door when he heard an Irish accent flow out of the exact studio he was heading for. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on. He creeped up to the door and watched through the glass as he watched a boy, no older than John and certainly not that much taller then him and placed his hand against Sherlock's cheek."Don't forget who you belong to." The boy said quietly and both of them stayed still until the Irishman made his move to turn. John ran down the hall and all but jumped into the first bathroom he saw. John felt like he was going to throw up. Who was this guy? What did he want with hi- with Sherlock?

John's brain was not helping at all in this moment. Sherlock was not his and he guessed he was not Sherlock's. John scolded himself for being so thick. Obviously John wouldn't be even nearly good enough for someone as smart and breathtakingly beautiful as Sherlock. 

John had to admit that Sherlock and that other boy would look good together. The striking features both of their faces had pieced together perfectly. Much better than John's chubby cheeks and round eyes. 

John stayed crouched on the floor in the bathroom until he could breath again. He slowly got up and as he left the room he knew that he needed to accept that Sherlock was taken, that Sherlock could never be his. Just because he had to accept it doesn't mean he had to like it John thought and braced himself for the cold spring air to hit him as he left the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy are dumb right? Idk


	7. Chapter 7

_Speedys 11?_

_See you there x_

John stared at his mobile. 11:03, of all the days of someone to be tardy today could not and would not be that day. 

John tapped his foot in time to the big clock the hung on the wall to John's left. On his right was a huge window beside the door, he needed to keep an eye out. 

11:08, John fiddled with his phone and his thumbs floated just above the screen, as if trying to make a decision to start typing or not. 

The flutter of a bell brought John out of the intense staring contest he was in the middle of with his phone. He looked up to see Mary standing in front of him, her arms stretched out towards him. John took the hint and as he stood up he wrapped his arms around her. "It's nice to see you again." John smiled into her bright, blonde hair. "Mhm." Mary nodded into his chest. 

"So, tell me everything." Mary gushed once they had sat down with their teas. "What do you mean?" John brought his mug to his lips and blew. "John Hamish Watson, don't you play dumb with me." John cringed at the use of his full name. He looked at Mary and smiled around his mug. 

A little over a year ago he thought he was in love with Mary but surprisingly enough she was the one to set him straight. His mouth quirked up at the choice of words. Mary was the first person he had confided in when he found himself confused, for lack of a better term. She really helped him and she gave him the confidence he needed to man up and tell the rest of his team. They took it surprisingly well, considering the way they treat people who are different, people like Sherlock but apparently it's because John was still John who played rugby and can talk about birds so he wasn't a "proper queer" was how they delicately put it. John figured it was just because he was the captain and if they say anything to him, they're off the team. John also thinks it helps he lied and said he was bisexual, not just gay. He thinks they've forgotten due to the amount of times they talk about girls. John was thankful for all those things every day. 

"You know that guy I've been hanging out with lately?" John sipped his tea and let the warm liquid flow down his throat. Mary nodded. "Sherlock? The dancer guy? Yep, definitely know _a lot_ about him." Mary winked and kicked his ankle softly under the table. "Well I, I saw him with someone else. Another boy. They were being quite friendly." John wiggled his eyebrows. 

"Oh John." Mary sighed and placed her hand softly on top of his. It reminded John of what his mother used to do, a long time ago. "What happened?" She tilted her head slowly and smiled. "He called Sherlock beautiful and cupped his cheek. I just, I really liked him Mary." John dropped his head in his hands and wiped his face with them. 

"Well, did they do anything coupley? That doesn't really prove anything." 

John snorted. "He told him not to forget who he belonged to. Is that fucking coupley enough for you Mary?" John cringed back into his seat. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I didn't mean that." He knew Mary was just trying to help but sometimes she's just so naïve. "I know you didn't." She grabbed his hand with the both of hers this time and held them close to her. "It will be ok, don't worry. If it's meant to be it will be. But just don't forget their are other boys in the world for you." She smiled and gestured for him to stand up. She wrapped her arms around him and he placed his face in the crook of her neck. 

"John." A familiar deep, velvet voice reached his ears and he recoiled out of Mary's hold. "Sherlock." He breathed. He took in the sight of Sherlock, damp and red from his practise. There was something not right though, his eyebrows were creased together and if John looked very closely it seemed that his right eye was twitching slightly. 

"And who's this?" Sherlock's voice was sharp, right. "I'm Mary, I've heard so much about you." John was about to nudge her before Sherlock turned sharply towards John. "John. Who is she?" He pronounced every syllable with venom. "I'm just gonna-". Mary gestured towards the door, leaving Sherlock and John alone. 

"What the hell was that Sherlock?!" John turned towards the door and dragged Sherlock out of the small cafe shop with him. He kept on walking towards the nearest park and only stopped once they were hidden in the trees. 

"Sherlock. What the hell were you playing at back there?!" John tried his best not to raise his voice. "I was merely asking who that woman was who's company you seemed to be enjoying so much." John marvelled at how calm and collected he sounded.

"No. No what you were doing was trying to intimidate her. God you're acting like a jealous prat when you're the one with the boyfriend!" Sherlock suddenly stopped pacing and stared at John. "Excuse me?" John thought it was hilarious that Sherlock had the mordacity to try and hide this from John. 

"Don't play dumb Sherlock, it doesn't suit you. I saw you on Wednesday, with some boy. Calling you beautiful." John felt sick saying each word. "Why didn't you tell me?" John asked quietly. 

"I don't. I'm, no he's not my boyfriend. He's just very." John watch him as he search for the right word. "Touchy". Sherlock rolled his eyes. "So you're telling me you're..", John smiled and started to walk towards Sherlock. He laced his fingers with Sherlock's long, thin ones. "You're free to date? Whoever you want?" John smiled and brought his hand up to Sherlock's neck to drag him down to his height. 

"It's whomever. But yes. I am." 

"Shut up." 

"Make me." Sherlock whispered against his lips and John smiled and brought his lips with Sherlock's. It was just a peck but as John went to lean in again, Sherlock leaned back. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sherlock asked, his head tilted in curiosity. "Tell you what?" John, yet again, was lost. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That all of this", he waved a hand between the two of them, "was for a bet." John had honestly no idea what Sherlock was going on about. Sherlock just stared down at him. "And do not lie to me John." John looked at him and he noticed that big bags under Sherlock's eyes, just how skinny he had seem to have become and how it seemed he couldn't stop moving. "Sherlock, I don't know what you're talking about. Are you alright? You're shaking."

John took a step towards Sherlock and to his surprise Sherlock didn't tense away. John slowly brought his hand up to rest ob the side of his face, his thumb gently caressing Sherlock's cheek. "Now tell me", John began as softly as he can. "What's the matter?" John could nearly feel Sherlock start to put his barriers up again and he quickly put his other hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck, their foreheads dangerously close together. "Stay with me, I won't hurt you. Let me know what's bothering you, let me help."

"The boy, Moriarty, Jim Moriarty that's who you saw me with on Wednesday and he told me that the only reason you were, were friends with me was for a bet between you and Anderson." John rubbed the back of Sherlock's neck in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

"Sherlock, that's not true. Look at me." John cupped Sherlock's face into his hands and stared right into those beautiful eyes. "I care about you for so many reasons. Because you know things that no other person should know, because you hate when people are too sentimental but you scrunch up your nose when you actually like it, because you are an extremely talented dancer, because you are a very giving person, because you care for others. I like you because you are you Sherlock. Not for some bet, I promise."

 

John looked up into beautiful grey eyes and slowly leaned forward. His eyes fluttered shut just as his lips connected with Sherlock. His stomach exploded with what felt like fireworks going off. Sherlock's arms wrapped around John's neck, pulling him closer as his tongue darted out to tease John's lips open. The first touch of tongue against tongue was warm, wet and magical. John felt Sherlock everywhere. The man's hands seemed to be touching all of John's body at once and his tongue seemed to be all over his mouth. It wouldn't surprise John if he was collecting data just to do with the inside of John's mouth. When they both separated for air John couldn't help a smile when Sherlock's lips slowly searched for John's before he opened his eyes. 

"Wow". Sherlock whispered against his lips before leaning in again. John smiled, he could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me about 5 hours to write and tbh I don't think I'll ever be happy with it so I hope it's alright?!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just little snippets of John and Sherlock's relationship after the kiss:) enjoy the fluffy fluff

There was a lot of things John started to learn about Sherlock ever since the kiss. The most important was that Sherlock was more fragile than he looks. 

"Show me." John looked up at the boy in front of him and smiled encouragingly. "Show you what John, please do try be more specific." Sherlock rolled his eyes and made his way towards the bed. John shifted and Sherlock gracefully plonked down on the bed next to him. 

"Show me why." John grabbed Sherlock's hand and intertwined his fingers with his. He loved the way his tanned fingers contrasted Sherlock's thin, pale ones. It had only been a week since the kiss and they hadn't done anything since except hang out more in their spare time outside of the gym. "I don't know what you want me to do, I enjoy ballet and that is why I participate in it." John quickly rolled over onto Sherlock, with the inside of his thigh touching the outside of his. 

"I didn't mean literally you twat. I meant show me what's going on in there", John gently tapped his index finger against Sherlock's temple, "when you think about ballet. It's like I just enjoy rugby because I love how the crowd cheers us on when we get a point and I love tackling all the little shits who think they're better than me." Sherlock's lips quirked up at that and he shifted slightly under John's gaze. 

"It gives me a break." He spoke so quietly John nearly missed what he had said. "A break from what?" John slowly started putting his fingers in Sherlock's hair and massaged his scalp gently. "From this." He copied what John had done earlier and put his index finger to his temple. "That bad huh?" John smiled at Sherlock. 

Sherlock had tried to explain to John how his brain worked but it ended up with Sherlock shouting at him for being an idiot, a pretty regular occurrence for John nowadays. Sherlock did manage to explain to him that his brain is in constant need of stimulation and it's incredibly hard not to be bored. John just told him that he would try his best to make sure Sherlock was never bored. He saw Sherlock nod quietly underneath him. "You have no idea John." He closed his eyes and John brought his hands down from his hair to his face. "Tell me, help me understand." John was bent down so that he was just above Sherlock's head. "It's so ba- I sometimes I can't sleep at night. I can't turn it off. It just keeps on going, deducing everything. Noticing anything. Never taking a break."

John had never seen Sherlock look so, so vulnerable before. He bent down further and placed a kiss on his forehead. John wondered how on earth he did it. Not sleeping all because his brain won't stop being so bloody clever. "And the ballet, that helps you switch off?"

"Well, it makes me focus. Instead of my brain whizzing around unable to stop on one thing for longer than about 2.3 seconds it's just peacefully quiet with only ballet on my mind. It's strangely calming. I plan on doing a experiment on it, clearly not with me being the subject as that could be biased, so that means you're out too." John just rolled his eyes as Sherlock continued to blabber about the experiment in words way too complicated for John to understand. 

John looked down and Sherlock and slowly leaned down to press his lips against the danseur's. "You really do need to stop talking sometimes." John mumbled against his lips. "At least I don't ramble like some people." John simply raised an eyebrows and Sherlock brought their lips back together again. 

Kissing Sherlock was nice, no it was amazing. Sherlock knew exactly what John liked and exactly what turned John on, which was unfortunate for him. John could feel the familiar feeling of tightness around the crotch of his jeans and broke the kiss. Breathing deeply John got off Sherlock and moved to lie down beside him, Sherlock all but whimpered as he got off. 

"We need to go slow yeah?" John tried to slow his breathing down and looked around Sherlock's dorm room. It was strange, he knew that some people still used this school as a boarding school but he never knew that they were this laid back with their students, Sherlock had actually written on the walks and he was never in by the nine o'clock curfew John knows they have. "My brother pays a lot of money for them to turn a blind eye and create different rules for me. For example my curfew is eleven, not nine." Sherlock broke the train of John's thoughts and he all but gaped at the curly haired boy beside him. 

"Oh right, how did you? Do you know what? I'm not even going to ask." John felt Sherlock's fingers slowly making their way down his arm and he tightly clasped his hand around John's wrist. "I think we've both cooled down enough now." Was all Sherlock had to say before John was pinned to the bed and Sherlock's lips were attacking his.

* * *

The thing he learnt about Sherlock that warmed him the most was how much he cared for others, and by others he means John. 

"I'm going to fucking kill them!" John snarled in the direction of which Anderson and a few other pricks off the rugby team had left. "Just leave it John, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before." Sherlock waved a hand as if to brush it off. John couldn't believe what he had seen, Sherlock with his face in mud, his ballet gear ripped and thrown in the mud beside him and John could spot a few bruises and that was before he got up close to him. 

"What the fuck happened?" John closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, counting to ten. "Nothing out of the ordinary and John please calm down, I don't enjoy hearing all those vial words." John smirked at that. 

"You don't like cursing?" He walked over to Sherlock and started to help him pick up his gear and placing them in his duffle. "No, I don't particularly enjoy it but it's having a different effect on me when you say them." John knew that was Sherlock talk for no I usually don't like it but when you say it for some reason I like it. 

"Are you saying that me saying something like, fuck, is getting you all hot and bothered?" John mumbled against Sherlock's ear and smirked when he felt Sherlock shiver beneath him. "That is a logical assumption, yes." John's fingers started tracing down Sherlock's chest. 

"Stop." Sherlock jumped out of his grasp when John's fingers got to his ribs. "What did they do?" John was not stupid, he knows exactly what Anderson's preference was when it came to beating someone up. "It's nothing John, really can we drop it now." Sherlock crossed his arms and stared at John. 

"It's not fucking nothing, I'll make practise a bitch for them on Monday." John clenched his jaw and kept on flexing his hands in and out of a fist. "No John, no no. Don't please." Sherlock's voice was filled with panic. "You can't tell them. You can't, please. Things will just get worse for you and me and I would not enjoy you getting faded out of the group for something as stupid as protecting me." John was right up to Sherlock in a moment, his hand pressed into Sherlock's curls. "Ok, it's ok." He pressed down on Sherlock's head until it rested on John's shoulder. 

"We can keep a secret if you'd like." John whispered into his hair and placed a few kisses onto the top of his head, wherever he could reach. "John?" Sherlock's voice was mumbled into John's jumper. "Yes?" He ran his hands through Sherlock hair and waited for whatever Sherlock wanted to say. 

"Thank you." He whispered and nuzzled further into John's chest.

* * *

The most surprising thing John learnt about Sherlock was just how blunt he was. 

"John. I wish for you to stay the night in my dorm tonight." John coughed as the water slipped down his throat without his permission. Fuck, what did Sherlock mean by he wants John to sleep in his room. John knew that neither him nor John were ready for that next step. They weren't even officially boyfriends yet. 

"John, really. I thought you were at least not stupid enough as to be capable of swallowing." 

"What did you mean, about the first part. The sleeping thing." John croaked and coughed again. 

"I merely am asking you to sleep in my bed tonight while I go out for a couple of hours, I need to confirm an alibi and if I am caught out of my room past eleven again they'll take away my morning practise allowances." Sherlock laid down next to John in the studio and looked up at the ceiling. 

"Ok, what time do I need to be there at? I'll just let my mom know I won't be home." John shrugged and closed his eyes, absorbing all he could from the British sun shining through the windows. "Arrive at eight pm, I'll give you the key now and I should return at sometime between twelve and one." John nodded and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, it was surprisingly less bony than it looked. 

"Thank you." Sherlock ran his hands through John's hair. "N'problem. Mm don't stop that please." John mumbled in Sherlock's shoulder and thought he'd never been more comfortable in his life. 

 

John arrived at exactly 8pm and let himself into Sherlock's dorm. John thought that this would be a great time to snoop around and see if he could learn a little bit more about Sherlock. For about an hour John looked through all of Sherlock's books, DVDs, CDs and posters. All that he found out about Sherlock is that he plays the violin, he must ask Sherlock more about that when he gets back. 

John was all wrapped up in Sherlock's bed, reading a book when a quite rap came at the door. Sherlock had warned him about this, the nightly check to make sure he was in his room. All he had to do wrap himself in his covers and mumble something rude and he would get away with being Sherlock. Sherlock had told him exactly who would it would be and to get an effective impact he had to mumble something about a husband and a Julie. 

Once that was over and done with John was going to continue reading but he was so warm and comfy and surrounded by sheets that smelt of Sherlock and only Sherlock. That's how he woke up groggily later by the bed dipping beside him and thin arms wrapping around his waist. John hummed and leaned back into the body. 

"Sherlock?" 

"Hmm?" Sherlock pressed his nose into John's hair and nuzzled it slowly. 

"Will you be my boyfriend? Like properly?" John was nearly asleep and tried to stop a yawn halfway through asking. 

"I already am." John felt a tiny bit of pressure where Sherlock's lips were and smiled to himself before falling back into the darkness of sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normal - Sherlock  
> Italic - John  
> Bold - Mycroft
> 
> This is just Sherlock and John's relationship through texts/calls. Enjoy some more cute fluff. 
> 
> This whole fic is dedicated to my best friend, tdog. I hope you enjoy it.

John.

_What?_

Tell me again.

_Do I really have to?_

Yes. Now please.

_Fine. You're lucky you're so handsome._

Flattery will get you no where. Now tell me. 

_Flattery is how I got you, you twat._

John, I'm waiting. 

_Fine, you are brilliant. Amazing even. When you dance, god when you dance I can't even concentrate you're so beautiful and sexy._

_Happy?_

Immensely. Also the first time you said that you said you "couldn't concentrate on anything else" please quote yourself correctly next time. 

_Piss off!_

* * *

_Did you know...?_

Probably 

_Not the answer I was looking for Sherlock_

What do you want from me John? I most likely do know what you're about to tell me. 

_I'm not replying until you give me a less prickish answer._

"Prickish" please if you're going to insult me, do use real words. 

You really should stop being so stubborn. 

I really don't like you. 

What?

_Did you know that you look really cute in your leotard?_

_And you do like me you twat, now come over here and kiss me in that sexy leotard._

* * *

_Where are you?_

_Sherlock you said you'd be here._

_Sherlock._

_Seriously Sherlock, don't bother telling me you're going to show up if you're not._

Back row, third from the left. 

Now wipe that ridiculous grin off your face and go win. 

Good luck captain.

* * *

You have biology now, yes?

_Yes and no I'm not skipping._

Don't be stupid John, biology is one of the classes you can't afford to miss. I was just going to ask you to put the Petri dish you're going to use into your bag, I need it for my experiment. 

_What? Sherlock. No. We're not even using Petri dishes._

You will be in about 2 and a half minutes. 

_I hate you._

No you don't. 

Thank you.

* * *

John. 

John really, must you be sleeping. 

John I will continue to text until you text back. 

Did you know that ballet started over 500 years ago in Italy?

It then moved from Italy over to France and then moved all over Europe. 

The first full-scene ballet was called Le Ballet Comique la Reine. It was performed in Paris on October 15th, 1581. 

_Sherlock Christ, what do you want._

Bored. 

_It's 2am! Why aren't you sleeping?_

John I have explained how my brain is in need of a constant stimuli, I thought you finally understood. 

_Yes but some people do need sleep._

The average teenage male needs 9 and a quarter hours sleep and from what I've gathered from your sleeping patterns you get 10, so I'm actually helping you. 

_Are you just full of facts?_

Mostly, yes. 

_Cool_

Don't fall asleep John. 

_I'm not, I'm here. I'm always here._

I know. 

Night John.

* * *

**Would you please explain the nature of your relationship with Sherlock Holmes to me.**

_I don't. Who is this and how did you get my number?_

**Answer the question John.**

\---

_Sherlock someone is texting me about the "nature of my relationship" with you, what should I say?_

\--

Mycroft, piss off and leave John alone. 

**My, my brother. Such a temper.**

And how's the diet going? Still gaining 2 pounds a week?

**I do hope you treat John right Sherlock.**

* * *

*Incoming call*

_"Hello? Sherlock? Are you ok?"_

_"Sherlock?"_

"It won't stop John." 

_"What won't- oh. What can I do? How can I help? Did you go to your ballet practise today? You always say those help."_

"Yes John those help when I'm there not when I'm trying to sleep for the first time in three days and I can't stop bloody deducing."

_"Don't get cranky with me just because you can't sleep."_

"Never mind John, I'll see you tomorrow."

_"No Sherlock, don't sorry I'm just. I'm a little out of my dept, I don't know what to do."_

"Just being there, knowing you're there it, it helps."

_"Well I'll always be here."_

"John?"

_"Yeah?"_

"Thank you."

*Call disconnected.*

* * *

_You are such a twat. What are you doing?_

I need to collect data John, it's important. 

_It's important enough that you hurt yourself?_

Clearly that wasn't my intention, do at least attempt keep up. 

_Doesn't mean you're not an idiot._

I'll let you know that I have the IQ of at least 3 three John's put together. 

_All I'm reading is blah blah blah I'm great when all I want to be reading is thanks John for saving my little ballet butt._

If you're going to attempt to impersonate me then at least try and sound like me. 

_*clears throat* my apologies John for not using all of my incredibly high IQ to use at that time and I thank you for coming and helping me._

_Good enough?_

Good night John. 

_You and your little ballet butt are welcome._

* * *

Bored. 

_Studying._

John. 

_Sherlock._

Why are you being so insufferable?

_Some of us do need to study._

Why don't you come over and I can help you study. 

_And what's in it for you?_

You. 

_Hm, sounds.. Tempting ;)_

Please don't say you are attempting to flirt with me using emoticons?

_Oh I would never ;)_

John. Stop. 

_What?:)_

There will be no rewards for correct answers if you carry on like that. 

_:(_

_But you like the rewards more than me, so you really don't want to punish yourself._

Come over in twenty. 

_I'll be there in 10_

_:)_

* * *

_ur fucjing amZing_

Really John? This is the third time in two weeks. Don't make a habit out of it. 

_but u lije it whrn I compli Christ thats a big wkrd. You like bigf words_

I do. Well done. 

_thank yoi_

_Sherlkck?_

Please at least spell my name right. 

Yes? 

_I think I bloody love you_

_Sherlock?_

_I spelt it right this time._

_good night, I'm sorry_

_I know you hear me let me ib_

_I'll knocj the dooooor doqn_

*Incoming call*

_"Sherlock, open the" - hiccup- "door"_

"No you're drunk. Go home."

_"No open the door."_

"Why do you want me to open the door?"

_"Because I love you."_

_"Sherlock?"_

"Do- do you mean it?"

_"Yes. I love you now please open the door, my bum is numb."_

*Call disconnected*

\-- 

_I meant it you know._

I know. 

I did too. 

_:)_

Stop with the emoticons please. 

_The smiley faces are the only ones who understand me ;) :) :o_

Why do I even put up with your idiocy?

 _Because you <3 me. _

You could have at least spelt out love. It's not that hard. 

But yes, I suppose I do.

* * *

**_I've seen you've been spending a lot of time with that lovely rugby captain. I hope I don't have to make a point to poor Johnny boy to let him know who you really belong to. JM._ **


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I have been MIA lately! Just had some shit going on, I really hope this was worth the wait!!

"I think we should engage in sexual intercourse." Sherlock sat down on the bed beside John. 

"Sorry what?!" John nearly all but chocked on his spit. "You heard me. You know how much I loathe repetition." 

"I heard you, I was just. You surprised me." Sherlock crawled into John's lap and rested his forehead against John's. "Why?" John put his hands in Sherlock hair and massaged his scalp. 

"Because I know you've been masturbating more recently ever since we started our relationship." 

"Sherlock. Sometimes you need to keep those things to yourself."

"But I just don't understand, why would you take yourself in hand when you have a perfectly willing partner right here." Sherlock moved his forehead from John's to his shoulder and took a deep breath. 

"Sherlock, we're not having sex just because you think it's logical instead of actually wanting to do it. You wanting me is kind of important you know." John kept petting his hair and Sherlock raised his head slowly and looked at John. 

"Of course I want you John, don't be ridiculous. We are in a relationship." John just laughed and cupped his face. "Well, why don't you show me?" John smirked and Sherlock brought their lips together. 

John tilted his head to try bring the kiss deeper when Sherlock pushed him back gently onto the bed. He straddled John's thighs and brought his lips down John's throat. "Mmh." John moaned as Sherlock sucked a little bit harder at the end of his neck. 

"Sherlock.. Sherlock. Wait." John put his hands on Sherlock's, stopping them from lifting up his t-shirt. Sherlock groaned and looked up and John. 

"John I am no blushing virgin. We can do things, nice things." Sherlock huffed and John pushed him off. 

"You may not be, but I am! I want to take it slow, ok?!" John tried to get his breath of rate down. John watched Sherlock's brain go into gear and he could pinpoint the moment Sherlock realised what he was going on about. 

"Oh. You. You haven't?" John just shook his head. "So it's, it's not me?" 

"Of course it's not you, honestly for someone who claims to have such a high IQ, you are such an idiot. Come here." John extended his arms and Sherlock all but rushed into them. John rubbed his back. "It's like an experiment yeah? Controlled kissing." John smiled into Sherlock's hair when he felt him nod beneath him.

* * *

"Ah John, I'm glad you're here." Sherlock nodded as he barged into the boys changing rooms. "Jesus Sherlock, what the fuck?" John slammed his locker and stared at Sherlock with his hands on his hips. 

John watched Sherlock's eyes greedily stare down John's, slightly damp, body which was only covered by a towel that hung low on his hips. "Pervert." John smirked and swatted Sherlock's arm. "Hmm." Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around John's bare waist. John watched Sherlock slowly lean down and connect his lips with John's. 

"Anyway, what are you doing here?" John pulled away and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, there are advantages of being the short one in a relationship, he figured. Sherlock started tracing shapes on John's bare back with the lightest of touches. John smiled into Sherlock's shoulder and realised he really does need to start taking it easy more with rugby, study and Sherlock, John barely had any proper time to himself recently. 

"I hadn't seen you in nearly 26 hours John, I was interested as to see how you were." Sherlock's lips hovered over John's hair and he planted a firm kiss on it once he had finished what he was saying. "So basically you just missed me." 

"No need to state the obvious John." He reluctantly left John and sat on the near by bench. "Do hurry up and change, we have a lot to do today." John rolled his eyes but did as he was told. 

"You need to stop telling me what to do." 

"You need to stop obeying."

John tried to ignore the flush of heat that rose to his cheeks as he quickly put on his uniform. "I'm not doing anything with you when I should be in class. Not everyone knows more than the actual textbook, you know." Sherlock merely nodded and walked out of the changing room while John quickly followed. 

"Wait, what are you?" John looked down at his hand, which was now intertwined with Sherlock's. "I thought you said, never mind. I apologise." Sherlock let go of John's hand as if it had burned him. 

"Don't be an idiot. I was just surprised. You were the one who didn't want this," John waved a hand between the two of them, "to go public." 

"I have changed my mind." Sherlock lowered his head slightly. "Is that, is it ok?" John dragged Sherlock closer to him with an arm draped around his waist. "You know it is, I can't wait to show you off." John smiled and pecked Sherlock's cheek. 

John watched Sherlock's face fill with colour and his gaze drop to his feet. "You mean that? You don't care that people will say things? About you? About.. us?" 

"I don't care what they say about me." John says simply. "But if I hear anyone talk about you that isn't about how fantastic you are, well then we'll have a problem."

Sherlock smiled at John, it was number three on John's scale of his top ten favourite Sherlock smiles so John couldn't help but beam back at him and think just how lucky he is to call Sherlock his.

* * *

It took two minutes and twenty three seconds into the first class for the news to travel back to Sherlock. He was thankful that he and John didn't have many classes together, since he does take some classes that were meant for the higher years. He didn't want John to hear the things that these idiot people were whispering to each other. 

"At least he has someone now." Sherlock heard his science partner, Molly, whisper to the girl beside her. He waited impatiently for the girl to reply. 

"He's a freak Molly. He doesn't deserve to have someone as great as John. He deserves to be alone. Not with John, John is was too good for him. I can honestly say I have no idea what he sees in that freak." He could hear how her lip curled at the end of her little monologue. He couldn't help but think about how right she was. He doesn't deserve John. John deserves someone better, not a freak who barely eats and does ballet. 

Sherlock put his head in his hands and tried to regulate his breathing. He was not good for John. He was not good for John. He did not deserve John. John deserved someone as kind, as loving, as amazing, as perfect as John is. A slight buzz against his leg is what dragged him out of his mind, he smiled as he put his phone under the table and read the screen. 

_You have been summoned to meet me and my idiot rugby friends who demand to meet you and make sure I'm worthy of you. Load of buggers, the lot of them. But you'll come, yeah?_

_We'll meet in the changing rooms after practise._

_I love you._

Sherlock smiled and typed out a quick reply of see you then and I love you too before he pocketed his phone. Sherlock wondered how in three short texts John had made his stomach clench and his heart flutter and a smile stretch across his face. 

The rest of the day seemed to drip by, Sherlock had never been more happy to enter the boys changing rooms. He was stopped in his tracks when his eyes darted across the room. 

"Where's John?" 

"He's just running late, he said he'd meet you at the pitch." Sherlock looked the rugby player up and down, trying to figure out who he was and if he could believe him. He slowly raised his hands and stared right at Sherlock. "I promise." He smiled politely and Sherlock just nodded and followed him. 

The idiot was still mumbling away when they made their way to the pitch. There was only one of the over-head lights on which highlighted a small silhouette. Sherlock wiped his palms on his trousers and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock nearly turned to the idiot before his head nearly exploded in pain and the world went black. The last thing Sherlock remembers was John's name on his lips. 

\--

The first thing Sherlock noticed was how badly his head hurt. He felt the throbbing pain all through his brain. The second this Sherlock noticed was how restraint he was, how parts of his body felt tighter against the chair than other parts. Wait, chair. Why was he on a chair, he was going to meet John, why is he..? Sherlock shook his head lightly to clear his head but it was a big mistake as the pain doubled. 

"Oh my, have you finally awoken sleeping beauty?" Sherlock cringed as the sing-song voice called out. He slowly opened his eyes, dreading to for his theory to be confirmed. 

"Where's John?" He croaked. He took in his surroundings, a room by the darkness Sherlock could guess it was underground. It was completely concrete, from floor to ceiling. The only thing other than Sherlock and the light hanging down in the room was another person, a boy. With slicked back hair and an immaculate suit. Shit. 

"Where is John?" Sherlock seemed to find more of his voice as he stared at Moriarty. 

"Oh who cares about that little pet? When all the fun and games are happening here Sherlock! I know you've been bored, I know _I_ have. So what do you say Sherly? Up for some fun?" Moriarty's smile spread across his face as he walked out of the room, leaving Sherlock alone. What the hell had Sherlock gotten himself into?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck, I suck, I suck! I don't even have an excuse school has just taken oven my life! Sorry this is such a short chapter, it's just reeling us in for the next one!  
> Love Ash x

John made his way out, stiff and sore. He was ready to fucking murder someone. Mostly that curly-haired freak. John ground his teeth together as he tried his hardest to walk without tripping. Christ, why was this so fucking hard?! He looked down and was reminded exactly why. He took a deep breath and tried to stop his blood from boiling over. His phone shrieking in his pocket brought him back to his surroundings. 

"John? John! Where are you? Are you alright? Let me come, I need to see you." John tried to ignore the bile that rose to his throat the minute he heard Sherlock's voice. 

"I thought I fucking told you not to talk to me ever again." John hung up but not before he heard Sherlock's very vocal disagreements down the line. John figured it was really his own fault for not checking the caller ID, Sherlock wouldn't let something like school get in the way of him trying to talk to John.

He tried his hardest not to think of Sherlock as he made his way home but the pain that jolted up his body after each second step didn't make it any easier. No matter how much he braced himself when his foot hit the pavement pain radiated from his veins and took over his body. 

John gritted his teeth and just kept on walking. "You got to suck it up Watson."

* * *

When a mirror breaks, it's a mixture of glass fragments falling and the sound of them tinkering together. Glass mainly breaks when an object is heavily thrown against it. It causes a slight indentation and causes fragments to crack and to fall off the frame, onto the floor joining a pair of baby pink ballet shoes.

* * *

A lack of food can cause the body to go into starvation mode over time. Starvation mode is a metabolic response to the body being deprived of food. The body starts to break down the muscles to fuel it and to try keep vital organs alive. Anxiety and depression also run high when your body isn't receiving enough calories. Soon enough the body will be over-worked and will no longer be able to fully function.

* * *

Night terrors are vividly realistic, disturbing dreams that rattle you awake. They often set your heart pounding from fear. Night terrors usually occur within the first few hours of sleep and the person who suffers from them usually cannot remember what caused them to wake up, screaming or just terrified.

* * *

They say when breaking up with someone you love, you go through stages. Your heart breaks, attempts to mend itself and, in our case, it fails and causes another break.


End file.
